


twenty questions

by MirrorImage003



Series: zutara tumblr prompts [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Season 3, The Ember Island Players, but katara kind of likes it, zuko can’t flirt to save his life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-08 23:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19877593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorImage003/pseuds/MirrorImage003
Summary: tumblr prompt: “He’s a bad kisser.”set during “the ember island players” // the conversation we all wanted to happen.





	twenty questions

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly fluff and dialogue and bad flirting, and mainly written to satisfy my need for Zuko to be made aware of Katara’s past relationships.
> 
> ALSO. I need you guys to know that there are literally 20 questions in this fic and I didn’t even plan that. Please be as impressed as I am at the coincidence of it all.

He doesn’t really know _why_ he edged Aang out to sit next to her. He doesn’t really wanna think about it. Call him a coward, but the realization waiting for him at the end of that particular rabbit trail isn’t one he’s necessarily prepared to confront. 

What he _does_ know, however, is that he possesses incredible hearing, even with his scorched ear. And when the two actors on stage portraying Jet and Katara begin to incessantly flirt with one another, Zuko almost chokes on his spit when he hears Katara mutter under her breath beside him. 

“He’s a bad kisser.”

Zuko shoots her a bewildered look and hisses, “ _What?_ ”

She startles, apparently not realizing she had spoken aloud. “I—uh, what?”

Zuko whips his head back to stare at the actors, who are now grossly entwined with one another, and he can’t unsee the image of the _real_ Jet and Katara locked in an embrace.

“You and—“

“Shut up!” She cuts him off with a harsh whisper, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. Her eyes flick to the others behind them, but they’re too busy watching the entrance of their own characters. “Just shut up.”

“But he was insane!”

She blinks, then leans closer, dark brows scrunching together. “Wait. How do _you_ know Jet?”

Before he can answer, Toph punches Katara in the shoulder and tells them to quit gossiping. 

Zuko crosses his arms and tries not to glare through the rest of the play. His foul mood only worsens as the night wears on. Intermission comes and goes. The cringeworthy moment between his actor and Katara’s passes with discomfort from both parties and light teasing from the others. The traumatic end goes up in literal flames, and _finally_ , they’re free to leave.

The night air is cool and dry against his skin, and Zuko takes a deep breath, attempting to calm the convulsing fire within him. Sokka and Toph attempt to cheer up the group, and even succeed in bringing out a few laughs from the others, but the mood refuses to shift beyond that.

The moment they step foot in the beach house, everyone disperses to their respective rooms. No one seems up to any games or conversation anymore.

Zuko lays in bed, eyes staring blankly at the wood panels above him. His mind is still racing and his head feels like it might explode, so once the noise of people moving around in the house finally dies down, he throws on a shirt and makes his way to the kitchen. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to scrounge up some of his family’s old alcohol in one of the cupboards.

Zuko is in the midst of cursing at all the empty bottles of wine and whiskey he finds in the pantry when she walks in.

“What are you doing?”

He jerks up on reflex, smacking his head against the shelf he’s leaning over and curses again. Apparently, his incredible hearing only picks up on disturbing and uncomfortable information from his enemy-turned-friend, but is useless when that aforementioned friend actually sneaks up on him.

Zuko throws a look over his shoulder to see Katara standing in the doorway looking mildly amused.

“I’m trying to get drunk, but it looks like I’m shit out of luck.”

She snorts and walks to the wicker basket sitting on the counter. Her nimble fingers glide over the assortment of fruit before she picks up a ripe looking mango. Her other hand grabs the small knife beside the basket before she’s walking out the way she came. 

“Well, I’m going to get some fresh air. Have fun.”

He stares after her for a moment, rubbing at the bump that’s beginning to form on the back of his head. Making up his mind, he finally ditches the disappointing liquor cabinet, grabs an ash banana, and follows her to the porch.

She’s already slicing the mango into halves when he joins her. She doesn’t look up when he sits down next to her, but she does tip her head up in acknowledgment. 

He watches her shave off a piece of the mango and stick it in her mouth, watches the pale juice slip down her fingers and over her wrist. He blinks hard and focuses on peeling his banana. They eat their fruit like that, just sitting on the front steps in a mutually maintained silence. 

Zuko would even go so far as to call it peaceful. That is, until she takes it upon herself to violate the quiet mood.

“Did you really dump Mai in a letter?”

It’s so far from what he expected her to say that a sharp laugh manages to escape him. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t exactly trying to _dump_ her, but she took it that way anyways.”

“What _were_ you trying to do?”

Zuko sighs and throws his banana peel into the shadowed bushes at the bottom of the steps with a little more force than necessary. “I don’t know. I—I guess I just didn’t want to drag her into my mess. Things were already complicated between us, even after I returned to the Fire Nation. In a way, I thought I was doing her a favor by leaving without saying goodbye. She doesn’t deserve to suffer from my choices.”

“Well, it sounds like she’s suffering anyways.”

He bristles at that, voice growing cold. “Don’t act like you know her or our relationship. Everything I did was—“

“Zuko, relax.” Her eyes are wide, caught off guard by his biting tone. “I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything. I just...I can imagine how she feels—knowing that you’re doing what you think is best, but she can’t help you. That’s probably a tough spot to be in.”

Slowly, Zuko let’s the tension seep out from his shoulders, resuming his previously relaxed state. “Yeah.”

An apologetic smile tilts her lips. “In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the best time to sympathize with her side. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs and fiddles with the hem of his tunic. “You’re right though. Even when I try to do the right thing, I end up hurting someone.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees her shift a little, her body turning just the slightest bit more towards him. 

“Look, Zuko. If the right thing was always the easiest thing to do, then nobody would struggle to make the right choices.” She hesitates for just a second before continuing. “Do you regret leaving her and coming to join us?”

He feels his heart beating slow and steady against his rib cage, and before he can really process the question, his answer is slipping out with a confidence he hadn’t realized he possessed. “No, I don’t. If I had stayed, a part of me would have hated myself for ignoring my destiny, and I know that I eventually would have hated her for it too.”

She reaches over and briefly squeezes his arm before letting go again. The skin there tingles in the seconds after her hand withdraws. “Then you’re okay. You can’t control anyone else’s feelings, only your own. Mai is strong. She’ll be alright.”

 _Uncle would love you_ , Zuko thinks. 

He doesn’t realize he’s said this out loud until she laughs and shakes her head. 

Suddenly, he remembers a part of the play that had him puzzled.

“Were you really the Painted Lady?”

Her laughter abruptly cuts off and she sheepishly tugs on a lock of hair. “Only for a little bit. The part about healing the people and cleaning the river is true, but the playwright added about twelve more explosions than there actually were. Plus, I had Aang, Sokka, and Toph to help me out.”

“But did you actually destroy a Fire Nation factory?”

A defensive look shutters her face, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Yes, but the factory was polluting their water! And the soldiers from the factory were—“

“Do you wanna be my partner sometime?”

“—taking all the medicine from—what?” 

He tries valiantly not to laugh at her incredulous stare.

“Do you want to be my partner sometime?” He leans back on his hands, legs straightening out in front of him. “The playwright got a lot of things wrong. That time Aang got captured—Zhao was the one who caught him. I was the Blue Spirit that broke him out.”

She gapes at him, lips struggling to form words. 

He grins. “I just think that the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady might make a good team.”

Her mouth opens and shuts a few times before she lets out a soft “huh” and squints her eyes at him. 

“So...Between chasing after us and commanding a squad of soldiers, you somehow found the time to be a street vigilante?”

“Between running away from me and helping the Avatar save the world, you somehow found the time to make out with a teenage terrorist?”

It slips out before he can stop it, and a pang of guilt sweeps through him. He winces, afraid that he’s just ruined a perfectly civil conversation because of his irrational ~~jealousy~~ curiosity. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—I wasn’t—“

His rambling cuts off when she starts to laugh. It’s a little brittle and a lot loud, but it’s laughter all the same.

She stops, smiling ruefully up at the night sky. “Yeah, I guess it does sound pretty stupid when you put it that way.” 

“It’s not stupid.”

She lets out a long sigh and flops onto her back, arms splayed haphazardly above her head. “No, it is. I mean, in my defense, he was one of the first boys my age that I’d pretty much ever met, and he did happen to be extremely charming. That was also back when life didn’t feel like it was always on the cusp of the end of the world. But all of that...I mean, the kissing and stuff...it’s all just a waste of time right now.”

Zuko doesn’t quite know what to say to that, an odd mix of sympathy and disappointment swirling his stomach.

“Surprisingly, he kisses better than Jet. But only by a little.”

“Who?”

“Aang.” 

Zuko’s eyes almost bug out of their sockets for what feels like the millionth time tonight. He scrambles to twist around and look at her. “You’ve kissed _Aang?_ ”

She hardly moves, eyes trained on the stars stretching above them. “Well, _he_ kissed _me._ Twice, actually.”

There’s a beat, and then Zuko is bending over his knees with his head in his hands, half-groaning, half-chuckling.

“Of course he did.” 

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“No, no! I’m not laughing at you, I swear.”

She covers her face with her hands and Zuko leans back on one elbow, stifling his chuckles. 

“I’m not laughing at you. I just find the situation kind of ironic.”

One droll eye peeks out at him from between her fingers. “Ironic how?”

He blanches, realizing too late that this conversation has taken a rapid turn for a topic that he has shoved (guiltily, shamefully) deep into the recesses of his mind. Stuttering, Zuko gestures emptily with one hand. 

“I just meant—well it’s—,” a half-grunt, half-squeak escapes his throat and Zuko would very much like to die right about now, “I’m just saying that—“

She isn’t covering her face anymore, so he can see the delicate lift of her left eyebrow in all its judgmental glory. He looks away.

“I just think your taste in men is interesting.”

He continues to avoid her eyes, but he can still feel her searching gaze on the side of his face. 

“That’s not what you were going to say.” 

“What? Yes it was.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Zuko, you’re a terrible liar. What were you really going to say? Why do you think it’s so ironic that Aang and I have kissed?”

The logical part of his brain warns him that telling her the truth would be a very large mistake, strictly cautions him that it would only complicate their hard-earned friendship. But the other part of his brain—the part that fully soaks in her un-ruffled, overly-composed appearance and longs to just smudge it with a streak of his own insecurity and embarrassment—that part quickly bashes the logical part in the face with a tsungi horn and leaves it to bleed out in a ditch.

“I find it so ironic, _Katara_ , because a genocidal homeless kid and a twelve year old monk have managed to accomplish what I’ve been wanting to do for ages now.”

She blinks, and Zuko feels the sharp sting of a blush crawling up his neck, but the damage is already done and he refuses to be the first to look away.

A string of emotions shifts like shadows over her face—confusion surprise embarrassment. Realization. 

Her lashes flutter, her lips part, and her eyelids lower to half-mast. Zuko has to clench his teeth to hold back a groan.

“You,” her breath skates across his face (when did they get so close?), “want to kiss me?”

He doesn’t trust his voice at the moment, giving her a jerky nod instead and then immediately wanting to sink into the floor. 

But she hardly seems to notice his jittery body language. Rather, a slow grin curls at her mouth, and a cheeky glint makes her eyes sparkle up at him in a way that warns of danger. He doesn’t know why, but it turns him on a little. 

“Well, clearly, you have quite the challenge waiting for you in the kissing department. How do I know you won’t be just as terrible of a kisser as Jet and Aang? Really, I don’t know if this is worth the risk for me.”

His nervousness begins to fade with her teasing, and he lets out a huff of laughter before doing what he does best. He rises to her bait. 

“I might just be the best goddamn kisser in the whole Fire Nation, and you would never have the privilege of experiencing that unless you kiss me.”

Katara guffaws and levels him with an appraising look, her face tilting just the slightest bit up. 

“Oh, so now it’s _me_ who’s kissing _you_?”

He gives her a sage look, hair falling across his brow and tangling with his dark lashes. “That’s right. You better seize this rare opportunity before it slips right through your fingers. I have plenty of other suitors waiting for me, you know.”

Her snort nearly pulls a chuckle out of him, but he manages to maintain some semblance of a straight face. 

“Plenty of other suitors, huh?”

“Plenty. Appa is the next on my list.”

One of his long fingers lightly coils around one of her dark, thin ones. With their faces mere inches apart, Zuko can see the mirth bubbling in the blue of her eyes mixing with something even brighter, something he can’t put into words but he can feel in his bones.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be shown up by Appa, now would I?”

When she finally presses her lips to his, Zuko swears that a Katara-shaped hole has just been carved into the puzzle that is his fate.


End file.
